


It Never Rains in LA

by slutbumwalla



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: F/M, RPF, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:12:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8503768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutbumwalla/pseuds/slutbumwalla
Summary: You've been working on a film with Sebastian Stan, trying to avoid getting his attention. Little did you know, you've had it all this time.





	

You were walking out of the studio after a table read, a pack of scripts with fresh notes slung over your shoulder, when you were stopped short by a rare but familiar smell. Your eyes fly to the glass doors and your mouth pops open with surprise.

“Is it RAINING??” you ask the building security guard, Grace, who is at her usual post behind her lobby desk. 

She smiles and nods, “Yeah, just in the last 15 minutes or so. No one is prepared, we had to scramble to get the mats down because people kept slipping in the foyer.”

“Oh, shoot…” you realize, looking down at your outfit. Not only are you wearing your favorite suede wedges, but you went with a slightly sheer, off-the-shoulder white top for this meeting. Your shoulders slump dramatically and you whine as you move towards the doors, causing Grace to chuckle behind you. 

Grinning at yourself as you push through the doors, you straighten up and take a deep inhale, savoring the smell of the rain. Rain was so rare in Los Angeles, where you’d lived your who life, that every little bit of it seemed magical. Even now, as you stood under the overhang, a wind gusted up and blew across your face, smelling of wet asphalt and setting leaves in nearby trees to a delicate rattle. 

“Oh, rain.” Says a matter-of-fact voice behind you, and you turn to see the blush-inducing reason you wore your filmy, flirty shirt today. 

“Yep.” You answer coolly, but turn quickly back to the rain to hide the sudden flush of your cheeks. You stick your arm out into the downpour, watching the fat drops gather on your skin before sliding down, and feel a presence step up to your right as Sebastian Stan stops next to you, regarding the rain. 

“Wow, this is actual rain!” he says, watching the drops slick off your arm. “Usually what LA regards as rain we’d consider a little sprinkle in New York, but this stuff is coming down.”

You pull your arm out of the rain and brush it off, a little rattled that he’s trying to have a conversation with you that’s not about business. You’d only been working together a short time, but your solace was that almost all talk was work related. On that ground you could keep your wits about you. You internally cringed remembering the time he’d veered off professional grounds during a break and asked you how you liked your coffee. You stammered for what felt like five minutes before remembering you didn’t drink coffee. He’d observed that was unusual for a writer, and you didn’t want to tell him about how much caffeine aggravated your nerves so you’d clunkily changed the subject back to the script. 

“Do you have an umbrella? Or…a coat?” he asked, pulling you from the embarrassment of your memory as he cast a concerned eye over your outfit.

“Uh…” you look down at your belongings, like one of those items might magically appear in spite of the fact that you knew you had neither. “It would appear that I don’t. Why, do you?” you ask, finally looking up and meeting his gaze. Those eyelashes alone could be the death of you, but fringing along those devastatingly blue pools of pure seduction, the combination has been one that consistently rendered your well-educated, thoroughly professional person into a jiggly mass of confusion and lust. 

Sebastian grimaces and shakes his head, lifting his shoulders up to his ears in a regretful shrug. “Nope. I’m in the same boat as you.” 

You nod ruefully and return your gaze to the downpour slashing away in front of you. There had only been a 30% chance of rain in the forecast this morning, and the sun was shining when the city woke up. Hence, there were a lot of people running around in t-shirts and flip flops. Sebastian himself was clad in jeans and a t-shirt and some serviceable looking boots, having expected to spend the morning doing a simple table read before proceeding with whatever else it was he did with himself during the day. Even though he looked kind of like he rolled out of bed in his clothes, you noted his smell was divine. Clean and masculine. The wind kept whipping it in your face. 

You let out a short sigh. “You know, I love the rain, but it can be really inconvenient at times. Like now, when I’m going to have to make a run to my car in my favorite shoes.” Like, really, you loved those shoes. You’d had to fight for them at a warehouse sale, you with one shoe in your hand, your competitor with the other shoe in her hand, and a stressed-out salesperson trying to negotiate peace. You smiled at the memory. 

“Where are you parked?” Sebastian asks. 

“Uh…” you say, remembering that you’re smack dab in the middle of the extensive lot. “Not…far?”

He laughs, “You’re all the way at the end, aren’t you?”

You grin, trying to hide how delighted you are with your ability to finally maintain such a tiny level of bather with him. “Something like that.”

“Do you know exactly where you are?” he asks, a smile in his voice. 

“Yeah. I’m that way.” You answer, indicating the general direction, sighing as you gird yourself to set off, casting a wary glance at the sky.

“Alright.” He says, determinedly taking your bag from your shoulders and whipping it across his chest. He points at your feet, “Shoes.”

You’re stunned. “What?”

“Put your shoes in the bag, you don’t want to get them wet, they’ll never recover. I’ll carry you to your car.”

“You can’t do that!” you sputter. 

“Well,” he raises his eyebrows and spreads his hands out in front of him, “Now you’re just challenging me. I’m a Leo. Don’t challenge a Leo, our egos can’t take it.” With that he whistles and twirls a finger in the air, indicating, once again, for you to take your shoes off. 

Sighing and incredulous, you step out of your shoes and drop them into your bag. Sebastian closes the flap and then shifts it around him so your things are secure, and offers you his back. 

“Hop on.”

Feeling ridiculous, you leap onto his back and he catches you, securing your legs around his waist, jostling you a little as he gets you hitched where he wants you. You’re giddy and nervous and not sure where to put your hands. If you leaned forward to wrap around his shoulders you’d be smothering his neck with your breasts. You settle for keeping your hands on his shoulders, a challenging position for your core but one that seemed worth it just right now. 

He sets off. You try to ignore how heavenly he smells, how thick and muscled and sure he is, carrying you like nothing across the asphalt in the direction you indicated, not flinching as the cold rain hit you both, even as you shivered and hunkered down a little closer to him. His wet hair is blowing back in your face, tickling you. Your back is getting soaked, contrasting with the warmth radiating from his skin. His big hands are secured around your thighs and you bump uncomfortably against his lower back with every step he takes…

“Oh my god, this is freezing. Are sure you’re ok? This row.” You jabber self-consciously before you point down the line you know your car is at and he turns obligingly. 

It’s probably less than five minutes, but by the time you point out your car and he sets you down, you’re soaked on your backside and shivering as you slide down off him. He grips your shoulders as you wrap your arms around yourself, both trying to warm yourself and shield your erect nipples from his gaze. 

“K-keys…” you chatter, pawing through the bag still slung around him as you fumble for the pouch you keep your car keys in. You can’t click the unlock button quick enough and he opens the door for you, ushering you in as he rubs your shoulder. 

“Um…” you rub your arms, still covering your nipples, “So where are you parked? Do you need a ride to your car? It’s really freezing right now.” 

He, either impervious to the rain or trying to impress you by not acknowledging how challenging it was, stands with his hands on his hips, rain dripping down his face.   
“I, uh…I didn’t drive here.” He says. 

An Angelino to the core, you give him a genuinely puzzled look. “You…uh…” you chuckle, “What, you flew here?” 

He laughs. “No, I used a driving service. Dropped me off at the front of the building.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, “So do you need a lift back?”

“Ah…” he scratches his neck, looking around, “Well I haven’t called for a pickup yet, so maybe you want a return a favor and drop me at my hotel?” There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that makes you slightly nervous, slightly exhilarated.

“Um…” you’re stunned but pleased, “yeah, sure. Here…” you wave him over and he circles around to the passenger side and slides in. 

It’s blissfully dry in your car and Sebastian frets about ruining your seats, which are cloth, but you dismiss his concerns as you press the ignition button and spin the dials to blast some heat. 

“Ohhhh…” you close your eyes and rest for a moment as a warm blast of air hits you, chasing away your shivers. You open your eyes just in time to see Seb quickly avert his eyes from your top and pretend he was looking out of the window. Cautiously, you glance down to see your nipples are still hard, their outline visible through your shirt.   
You clear your throat, put the car into gear and back up, injecting a deliberate casualness in your voice as you ask him where he’s staying. He gives you the address and you ask him to plug it into the GPS as you navigate your way through security off the lot. 

*****

You both remain in silence until you hit the freeway, the dulcet tones of the local public radio station serving to keep you both occupied with news about the current political cycle. 

“Such bullshit.” Seb mutters as you’re speeding up the on-ramp. 

“Ugh, I know.” You say, both responding to the story about the latest country torn apart by civil war. 

This sets off a conversation, and you almost feel like you’re talking to a normal person as you navigate the freeway and follow the directions to his hotel. The windshield wipers set a soothing rhythm as some of the seductive mystique of Sebastian Stan, drop-dead handsome actor, falls away and he displays all the qualities of a normal human being.

The GPS navigation announces that you’re approximately five minutes from your destination, and you’re guiding your car along the off-ramp when he seems to, rather abruptly, turn the subject back to the script you both are working on. 

“So how did you envision my character when you wrote him? I’m just curious.”

“Ummm…” you say, distracted as you pull onto a busy boulevard and wonder which lane you should be in, “Well, he’s kind of an amalgam of a couple of guys I knew…”

From there you talk about the script, and his character, and get into some satisfyingly nitty-gritty motivations behind who Sebastian is playing. Here you’re at your strong suit, because storytelling is your base, your core, the whole reason you became a writer. You’re in the middle of a passionate monologue when the GPS voice tells you to turn into the roundabout that leads to the hotel. 

“Here we go…” you say, as a valet comes rushing towards you and you try to wave him off, indicating you’re just there for a drop off. 

“Ok, I’m fascinated by your perspective on this,” Sebastian says, opening his own door but pausing to look at you, “Is there any chance you want to come in and continue this conversation? Are you busy?”

You, as a matter of fact, have a ton of work to do. Your mind flicks to the stack of notes you have to sort through, sitting in the bag of scripts you’ve got in the back seat. 

“Not busy at all.” You hear yourself saying, and a valet opens your door and holds out his hand to help you out of the car. 

*****

Shortly thereafter, you’re both seated in a quiet corner of the hotel bar, drying off. Under the canopy of the hotel entry, you’d been able to retrieve your shoes from your bag and walk through dry ground into the hotel, which you laughingly had thanked him for. Both of you seem to have forgotten that the premise of this meeting was supposed to be a conversation about the project you’re working on. 

“So how did you get into screenwriting?” Seb asks, waving off the waiter trying to pour your wine and doing it himself. 

You talk. You tell him about yourself, he shares about himself. You both get more giggly and rosy-cheeked as the wine bottle gets depleted. While a part of you can’t believe you’re sitting in a corner booth getting drunk with Sebastian Stan, there’s another part of you realizing that you’re taking part in an ancient ritual. He’s clearly trying to seduce you, and you are clearly interested. Your palms sweat just thinking about the reality behind your belief. 

“Can I tell you something?” Seb asks, a slight grin on his face. 

“Ooh, I don’t know. Do I want to hear it?” you say, pretending to be distracted by the blazing view of downtown LA through crystal windows.

He chuffs and then slants a seductive look your way, gazing at you through his eyelashes as his hand moves across the table to caress yours. “I’m pretty sure you’re madly in love with me.”

You burst out laughing, throwing your head back in genuine amusement. “Oh am I?” 

He maintains his gaze even as a cheeky grin spreads across his face. 

“The first time I saw you…” he’s running a finger along the inside of your palm and you’re suddenly inert, mesmerized by the intensity of his tone, “you blushed like crazy every time I looked at you. And…” he flipped his hand, and yours, over, so that your palms meet and he can twine his fingers with yours, “you met every single person in that room with no problem, except me.” He slowly brings your enjoined hands to his face, his eyes on your fingers as he brings them to his lips. You have trouble breathing. “You couldn’t even make eye contact, you blushed every time you tried.” He levels another devastating gaze right at you, brushing his lips over your fingertips.

You blush now, embarrassed that he’d noticed. “Well…” you open your mouth expecting something clever to fall out, but nothing comes. 

You can’t deny it. You grin, sheepishly, shaking your head and looking back out the window, wishing you could press your hot face against the cool glass and then fall through the window and die. 

He takes another sip of wine while his eyes stay on you, his ridiculously full bottom lip glistening as he put the glass down. 

Feeling like your smile is now way too big, self-conscious because he’s still staring at you with a challenging grin on his handsome mug, you pull your hand from his and cover your mouth, propping your elbow on the table for support as you finally look at him.

“Really?” you say wryly. For someone who makes a living constructing sentences, you’re sure failing in that department now.

He breaks out into a smile. “Well…” he says, sitting back in the booth, running a hand through his hair as he casts a casual look around the bar, “I maaaaaay have been paying a little bit more attention to you than I do most people.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Oh really? And why would you do that?” You’re still smiling far too widely, but you prop your chin on your palm as you wait for his answer. 

“Ahhh…” he leans forward, smiling, propping his elbows on the table and cradling his wine glass, “You’re just…interesting.”

“Mm-hmm.” You say. Now he’s blushing slightly. 

“And…kinda hot.” He murmurs. 

“Ah.” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Like, actually…really, really…attractive.” At this he pulls your arms toward him, over the table top, wrapping his big hands over your forearms.

“Well.” You ponder, rubbing the inside of his elbows with your thumbs, “What does that mean right now?”

“It means that I think we should have dinner together, at least.”

“Well, we’ve already had drinks, I suppose that would be the next logical step.” You muse. 

“And then…” he says, toying with your fingers, “We’ll see.” He flashes you another heart-stopping look from under his lashes. 

You can’t remember the last time you smiled so much. “Ok,” you say, “but we’ve got to tone this down a bit. I can’t eat with this amount of tension and I’m going to need to eat something.” You indicate the wine bottle, now down to the last dregs. 

“Fair enough. Do you want to eat here, or did you want to check out one of the other restaurants around?”

You consider. “I’ve got a better idea. Where’s your room?”

His eyes widen in surprise as you pop up and tug at his arm, leading him towards the elevators. 

*****

An hour later, you’re both laying on his hotel bed, moaning. 

“That was ridiculously good.” He murmurs. 

“No, that was the worst idea. I’m completely wrecked.” You answer, rubbing your stomach. 

You both sit up and survey the room service food laying in ruins before you. Your wine consumption had gotten the better of the both of you and you’d gone a little crazy orchestrating your bed picnic. 

“It might be easier to just wrap this all up in the duvet and leave it out in the hall.” You mutter, picking through the plates, trying to stack them in some sort of reasonable order.   
Sebastian chuckles, but starts to clean his share. You both manage to stack everything on the room service tray and deposit it into the hallway. You emerge from washing your hands in the bathroom, smelling the delicious lemon soap, to find him spread back out on the bed, rubbing his own stomach, socks poking out of his jeans, hanging off the edge as he watches the battle of Helm’s Deep, which was the only interesting thing on his hotel cable package when you sat down to wait for your food. 

“So that was either a great idea or a terrible one.” You say, grabbing a pillow to hug to your stomach as you sit on the edge of the bed, facing the TV and wondering what to do next. Was it time to go home? You were both so full any hanky-panky was off the table. 

His free hand comes up to rub your back, “That was perfect. Come lay down, it feels better.” You can tell by his voice he’s half-asleep, his already deep tone taking on a scratchy quality.

He pulls you to his side and you oblige, curling up under his arm and using the pillow as a buffer between you so you can hitch your leg up on it without absorbing his body heat.

You listen to the TV for a bit, hearing the rain plink off the armor of the soldiers as Aragorn shouts commands. “This sound effects in this scene were so good I was literally shivering in the theater when I saw it.” You murmur. 

“Hmm.” He grunts, non-commitally, and then pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. “I’m going to take a nap now. Shhh. Stay here.” He rolls over and pins you to the bed under him, ensuring your compliance before, indeed, falling into a heavy slumber.

For a while you just lay there, under him, having an imaginary dialogue with the ceiling. “Ceiling, what am I doing here? I should be knee-deep in rewrites now and instead I’m the mutual victim of a room-serviced induced food-coma with, yes, an incredibly gorgeous man. Said man also happens to be the star of the film I’m working on, meaning I am mixing business with pleasure. Ceiling, am I highly unprofessional? Yes. Yes I am.”

Nevertheless, as the wine and the carbs work their way into your system, Sebs rhythmic breathing lulls you into a calmer state. Your eyelids get too heavy to keep open, and soon you’re both asleep as the sun sets through the windows and the room fades into the bluish light flickering from the TV. 

*****

You wake up in darkness, momentarily unsure of where you are. Your mouth is thick and dry, and as you move the stiff crackle of your jeans reminds you that you fell asleep in Sebastian Stan’s hotel bed. Except something is off. He’s not there. You turn your head cautiously at first, not wanting to wake him if he’s just rolled to the other side. But no…lights from the city below are shining through the window sheers and you can see that you’re in a bed, all alone. 

Cautiously you raise up, trying to see as much as you can in the darkness. You stumble towards the bathroom – maybe the room service got to him? But that, too, is unoccupied. Taking advantage, you relieve yourself, and, while you’ve got the chance, you grab his tube of toothpaste and glob some on your finger, swishing it around in your mouth, rinsing and spitting until you feel clean. You straighten yourself up in the mirror, thinking that you’ll head downstairs and see if you can get your car and go home, where you should have been all along. You have no idea where he would have gone in the middle of the night, but it doesn’t leave you with a great feeling. What if he got another room and things were going to be weird at work now? Your stomach clenches at the idea. Opening the bathroom door, you pad out and flip on a lamp, intending to search for your shoes, when the door room lock sounds. 

You whirl around as Sebastian enters, carrying two large water bottles and a bucket of ice. He freezes as he sees you standing there, wide-eyed, and then lifts his offerings and sets them at the bar. 

“I don’t know about you, but some ice water would hit the spot right now.” He fills two glasses and offers you one, which you gratefully accept. 

You take a long, deep drink, stopping just short of giving yourself brain freeze. “Ahhhh…” you sigh, eyes closed, feeling the cold water as it shoots down your parched throat. “Perfect.”

The bed beside you gives as he sits next to you, downing his own glass and sighing in similar relief. 

“What time is it?” you ask, rising to set your glass on the bar before returning to the edge of the bed. 

“It’s 3:00.” He says, rising to place his own glass on the bar. 

“Really?” you ask, casting around for a clock, “We slept for…what was that? Eight hours?” You remembered the sun setting as you fell asleep, which, at this time of the year, would have been about 7:00. 

Seb runs his hands through his hair and ends up rubbing his eyes, as well. “Something like that.”

“Is the valet still open?” you ask uncertainly. Since you’re wide awake now, you figure you can get home early and get through some of the script edits, maybe catch up on the work you’ve lost…

“No, not until 6:00.” he says, not looking at you, but flopping back on the bed. 

Your shoulders slump. You’ve got the sinking feeling that he’s ready to have you gone and now you’re both stuck here for three more hours. You fight the sting of tears in your eyes. 

“Hey, come here.” He reaches out for you and draws you back to him, nuzzling your forehead as his arms wrap around you. “I had a really good time with you.” He murmurs into your hair, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Mmm,” you say, cautiously relaxing into his embrace, “Me too.”

You both lay there for a minute, at that precipice where you’re supposed to appear relaxed but you can’t help feeling awkward inside. 

He shifts slightly and you look up to see that he’s looking down at you tenderly. “Hey.” He says, smiling and bringing a hand up to caress your face, his thumb rubbing suggestively across your bottom lip.

You smile back, unaware that the alluring sweep of your eyelashes are setting his heart fluttering. “Hey.”

He brings his face down to meet yours. The kiss is soft and tender, maybe even a little tentative at first. He’s got stubble and it lightly scratches, but his lips are soft and warm. You both move against each other and your mouth opens. He takes advantage, plunging his tongue in, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to anchor it as he elevates the kiss from something soft and sweet to something more urgent, demanding. 

He rolls on top of you, moving his hands along either side of your face. You note, wryly and only to yourself, that you both apparently brushed your teeth, because your mouths meet and taste of nothing but his fancy mint toothpaste. 

He’s lavishing your mouth with his kisses and you vaguely register that his stubble is starting to burn. Your hands are busy exploring his back, pressing your palms against the flat planes of muscle, dipping into the valley along his spine, sliding to slip under his shirt at the small of his back. As your cold hands make contact with his skin he arches, gasping into your mouth as his pelvis presses you deeper into the mattress. 

“We’re gonna have to warm you up, sweetheart.” He whispers, sliding his lips along your jawline, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. 

“Ok.” Is all you can think to say, hands warming as you work them along his back, willing him to move so you could tug his shirt off and get an up-close look at those abs. 

You feel him smile into your neck, and his teeth give you a quick nip before he raises himself up. “You first,” he grins and you raise your arms above your head as he whips your shirt off before pulling his own over his head and tossing it aside. 

“Nice shirt, by the way.” He says, lowering himself to his elbows, hovering above you, wicked grin on his face, “Not really business casual. You wear that for my benefit?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

Your press your lips into a thin line, trying to hide your smile as you roll your eyes. “Yes, I make all of my sartorial decisions based on what I think you’d like.”

He lowers his head to give you a peck before rolling you over, “Well then next time skip the bra.” He pops the clasp and returns you to face him, your bra sailing over his shoulder as his mouth descends to your breasts. You close your eyes in bliss as his warm mouth licks and sucks, tugging at each nipple, his large, warm hands covering and caressing you, leaving nothing neglected. 

You writhe under him, closing your eyes and reveling in the sensations he’s setting off. 

“Sebastian…” you murmur, and you hear a pop as he releases your nipple and moves up your body to cover your mouth with his. 

“Say my name again.” He demands against your lips. 

“Sebastian.” You say, rocking against him, your hands traveling up his impossibly wide shoulders to press him closer against your chest, enjoying the friction of his bare skin against yours. 

He groans and rolls over, pulling you on top so that you’re straddling him. His hands fly to your breasts, kneading, tweaking, caressing. Through heavy lidded eyes you trail a finger along his stomach, from his belly button to the top of his jeans, tickling the hair there. He hitches up slightly, encouraging you, and you pop the button open, scooting down to make room to unzip his jeans and push them down enough to maneuver his cock out, your mouth popping open as the full thing springs out. 

“Wow, good for you!” you exclaim, stroking it curiously. He’s got a smug smile on his face at your reaction. 

“I’m not even going to begrudge you that smile, mister, this is impressive.” You say as you continue to lightly stroke his velvet soft shaft, fascinated. 

He laughs and smacks your ass, “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Get up.”

You comply, swinging your leg over and kneeling on the bed as he gets up to remove his jeans and boxers. He lunges at you, throwing you down on your back as you laugh. 

“Your turn, sweetheart.” He grabs you by the ankle and drags you toward him, undoing your jeans and sliding them and your underwear down your legs.   
You can feel his thick girth against your thigh as he leans over you, rubbing his lips across your jaw while plucking at a tender nipple with his fingers.   
“You ready, or do you want to play more?” he whispers, his low, sexy tone sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m ready for anything you’re willing to give me.” You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and meeting his reddened lips for another bruising kiss. His hand slips down your body, gently probing the heated space between your legs. You open for him as he slides a finger into your folds, stroking the wetness, spreading it around as he works his way in. 

“Hmm, you ARE ready for me…” he says, circling your clit, setting off a brief shudder as pleasure shoots through you. 

He gets up, leaving you cold momentarily as he rummages through his bag. He turns around with a strip of condoms in his hand but stops short as he takes you in, sprawled on the bed with your hair splayed out behind you, lips red from his ministrations, taut nipples poking into the cold air, the sweet smell of your arousal beckoning him. 

“Oh, baby…” he rips one condom free and throws the rest of the pack on the nightstand, “You’re gorgeous.”

You smile seductively and crook a finger at him, “Come here.”

In the next moment you find yourself caught up in his arms as he places wild kisses on your mouth, trailing to your ear, nipping at your throat. You moan, steadying yourself on his shoulders, and he maneuvers you under him, laying you gently on the mattress as he rips the foil and slides the condom on. 

Eyes on his dick, you open your legs eagerly as he takes you up under your knees to position you in front of him. 

“Ready?” he asks, rubbing the tip over your entrance. 

“Yes, please.” You say, wriggling your bottom a little, teasing him. 

He slaps the underside of your thigh and grins, but his expression changes as he enters you. His brow furrows and he lets out a tortured sounding gasp. 

“Oh, fuck…” he’s got your thighs in a death grip as he slowly slides in and out, and you writhe to adjust to his size. You’re not particularly size-centric, but he is definitely the biggest you’ve ever seen and you’re dying to find out if it really does make a difference. 

It takes a couple of pumps for him to work his way fully in, and once he does he stills, crawling up your body, jutting his hips into you a little further as his face hovers above yours. “You ok?” he asks. 

“Mm-mmm…” you manage, biting your bottom lip. You tighten your walls around him and he bites his lip, his expression mirroring yours. 

Gently, he takes both of your arms, which are gripping his biceps, and holds them over your head, stretching over you deliciously, pinning your wrists in place with one hand. 

“Now, remember…” he intones, kissing your forehead, down to your nose, and then looking straight into your face, the blue of his eyes blown wide with lust. “You said you were ready for anything.” 

You feel a moment of trepidation as he levels a wicked smirk your way and places a soft kiss on your lips. 

His hips snap back and he plunges into you, causing you to cry out. Your hips buck against his as he pistons, stretching you, filling you with every inch of that delicious cock. On one thrust he swirls his hips, rubbing against your clit. You moan too loud and then bite your lip, but you feel his free hand grab your jaw and he roughly sticks his fingers in, popping your lip out before crushing your open mouth in another bruising kiss. “Don’t hold back.” He commands, grinding into you again, swirling and causing you to let loose a stream of expletives. 

“I don’t think I can take this…” you pant desperately, sensations shooting through your body at a pace you’d never experienced before. 

“Yes you can. You’re taking it, sweetheart.” He assures you, stroking your hair back and switching up his punishing pace to a more rhythmic one as he keeps you pinned to the bed under him, writhing and moaning, a sheen of sweat working its way over your features. 

You’re straining against his hold even though you have no desire for him to let you go. Your back is arched and you’ve got your legs spread as wide as you can, wanting to take as much of him in as possible. He feels SO. FUCKING. GOOD. There’s no way you could ever have imagined him feeling this good. 

“Do you like that?” he murmurs, his breath hitching in time to his thrusts. 

You bite your lip and nod, moaning in ecstasy before he grabs your jaw roughly again. 

“Mouth.” He reminds you, and you let go of your lip and are rewarded with a deep kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth as he thrust into you and swirled his hips again. 

You break the kiss with a gasp, “That feels so fucking good…” you moan. He does it again, and this time you swirl your hips to match his. 

“FUCK.” He cries, thrusting into you a few more times before pulling out and yanking you up. 

He lays on his back and you swing your leg over him, guiding him into you, and then you control the rhythm as you bounce on his cock. He grips your breasts and pinches your nipples hard. You arch your back in pleasure and then reach behind you to cup his balls in your palm, causing him to jerk up hard and buck into you. 

“Yes.” He hisses out, the veins on his neck protruding. You apply a little more pressure, rolling them in your hand, and his bucking increases to a wild pace. You can tell he’s close.   
His eyes are closed and his head is thrust back as far as he can go as you ride him and he bucks wildly under you. His hands hold your waist tightly, trying to control how hard he slams into you. You roll your hips and squeeze your walls, a firm grip on his balls, and you feel him go rigid one second before he explodes, his deep voice moaning his release as he grips your hips so tightly you wouldn’t be surprised to find bruising later. 

He pulls you on top of his heaving chest, eyes still closed as he comes down from his high. He growls into your hair and you smile. 

“You are fucking amazing.” He finally breathes, kissing your forehead. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I fucking saw you.” His head drops to the mattress as his breathing evens out. “Did you finish?” he asks suddenly, raising his head to look at you. 

You shake your head and hum dismissively, “No, but I never do the first time with someone. Takes a little work.”

A low grumble of displeasure sounds through his chest. “Well we can fix that.”

He flips you onto your back and slides between your legs, diving in with no hesitation. 

“Sebastian!” you gasp and your hips jerk. You may not have come, but that area just took quite a pounding and your flesh is super sensitive. 

He continues his ministrations, licking and lapping you up, sucking on your clit, until that warm feeling deep in your stomach begins spreading, and suddenly all you can focus on are the sensations he’s causing with every nip and scrape of his tongue, teeth and stubble. 

You’ve gone quiet, your eyes closed as you silently pant through the buildup he’s stoking in you. He looks up through his lashes and sees you gripping the sheets next to your thighs. He takes one long pull on your clit and you tense up, biting your bottom lip again. As he slows his pace to a more lascivious lick, your hands loosen on the sheets and he catches them up in his own, twining his fingers with yours as he swirls his tongue and moves in again, sucking and setting a fierce pace that has your orgasm unfurling in your belly before you know what hit you. 

You arch your back and cry out as you gush into his mouth, strangling his fingers in your grip as the force washes over you. He continues to stroke you gently with his tongue, helping you down. As the last of your orgasm washes away, your body goes slack. He climbs up you, covering you with his warmth as your senses return and you become aware of the cold air in the hotel room swirling around you. 

You hear a thunk at the front door and your head shoots up. 

“What was that?” you ask, in alarm. 

“Morning paper.” He says dismissively, wrapping you up in his embrace, trying to scoot you both out of the wet mess you made and under the warmth of the covers. 

“It’s MORNING?” you fret. How long had you guys been going at it? 

“Early morning. Plenty of time for sleep.” He murmurs into your hair in his sleepy voice. 

“Sebastian, I’ve got to go…” you say plaintively. 

“Hm-mmm.” He shakes his head and pulls you tighter. “Shhh.”

You have to admit you’re exhausted, and now that you’re both ensconced under the covers it’s really cozy. You don’t remember falling asleep, but sleep comes anyway. 

*****

You sleep so deeply that it’s lunchtime when you wake up. 

“Oh my god…” you blink as the sun blazes in. Behind you, Sebastian moves to pull you back against him, but you’re decidedly awake and wondering if you can salvage any of your work day. Stretching, you sit up, letting the sheet pool at your waist as you look around the room. Golden sunlight is streaming through the sheers, casting a glow over your tousled hair and across your naked breasts. This is what Sebastian sees as he finally opens his eyes – you, naked in his bed, staring out of the window with your hair tumbled around your face. 

“Hmmm, that’s nice to wake up to.” His voice is full of sleep but it’s still seductive. 

You turn towards him. “I think my work day is shot.” You fall back against the pillows with a sigh as he groans and throws an arm around you, nuzzling into your neck.

“Yep. What time is it? Let’s order lunch in.”

You take up the hotel guidebook, flipping through to find the room service menu when you notice something. 

“Sebastian.” You say, your voice curious. “It says right here that the valet service is available 24 hours a day.”

You crook your eyebrow at him as he assumes an innocent expression, not meeting your eye. “Oh really? Hm.” He closes his eyes and smiles, snuggling into you and pretending to go back to sleep.

“You liar!” you say, grabbing a pillow to hit him with.

He gives you a shit-eating grin. “C’mon…” he says, dragging you over him so he can trail kisses along the column of your throat, “Can you blame a guy for trying to keep you here?”

You smile and shake your head, blocking his face with your hand as you scoot over and take up the guidebook, pulling it close to your face to hide how pleased you are. The menu is flipped out of your hands and flung across the room. 

“Ok, ok…” Sebastian says, rolling on top of you, shit-eating grin back in place. “Let me make it up to you?”

You grin back at him and wrap your arms around his neck, “What did you have in mind?”

His throat rumbles with a wicked laugh as he descends on you.


End file.
